


Pretending To Be Human

by yeuxdangeyams



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Car Accidents, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, M/M, Mentions of Blood, Mentions of Death, Minor Injuries, Post Timeskip, Song Lyrics, Song fic, Soulmates, Unbeta'd, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:54:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27426772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeuxdangeyams/pseuds/yeuxdangeyams
Summary: He wanted it more than anything. He wanted to live a life with fukunaga shouhei, and love him unconditionally till the day they both died. He wanted to be laid to rest six feet deep, surrounded by people that he grew to know and love over the course of his life. He wanted a beating heart. He had so many wants, but none of them would ever be fulfilled because kenma was gullible.
Relationships: Fukunaga Shouhei/Kozume Kenma
Kudos: 7





	Pretending To Be Human

**Author's Note:**

  * For [seodreaming](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seodreaming/gifts).



> lmk what you think or leave a kudos :)

fukunaga shouhei doesn't believe in angels. He’s never been much of a religious person himself, but he knows people who are adamant that he has someone looking out for him. He, on the other hand, is not so sure about this. In his eyes, he’s the unluckiest person out there. Guardian angels must not exist if fukunaga can manage to be as unlucky as to step in every piece of gum on the sidewalk and be the only car to miss the green light every. damn. time. It just wasn't fair. Things didn't fare well for his career either. He'd been trying for so long to jumpstart his comedy career but it never worked out. When he played bars and other small joints, people always either left when he came on, or just didn't show up in the first place if they knew he was doing a show that night. And as if his life wasn't already the worst, his rent was due in two weeks and the only money he had was the $200 that his best friend yamamoto taketora lent him so he could buy groceries that month because fukunaga swore up and down that he had rent figured out that month. Plus, he hated accepting money from his friends. As desperately as he needed it, he hated feeling like a charity case. He's told yamamoto this countless times, but yamamoto insists that it’s not out of pity, it's out of love. Easy for yamamoto to say. He’s only 26 and is a pro volleyball player. If fukunaga had to pick one good thing out about his life at the moment- if someone really wanted to know, he’d tell them that it was the one face that he always sees out in the crowd at every single show of his for the past two months. He wasn't sure how someone could stand to listen to the same set and the same boring jokes over and over while he waited for new ones to be written (yes he has someone else write his material for him, get over it) but this one guy manages to do it every Tuesday, Thursday and saturday. As of late, fukunaga had begun to jot down his own jokes and material in a moleskine notebook the yamamoto got him for his 27th birthday. He was even considering firing his writers. His latest material consisted of a few jokes dedicated to the man in the audience who frequented every show. About how fukunaga was sure he was an angel, which was ironic given the fact that fukunaga was very much unbelieving in angels and a heaven above and much less a hell below. Hes yet to perform the set, but he’s currently backstage at his favorite bar, the black spot, and he’s jittery with nerves. He knows he’ll see the angel in the audience, but he’s afraid of how he’ll react to hearing the new set being directed at him. He wonders if he’ll realize fukunaga wrote jokes specifically for him. But he doesn't have any time to regret it or back out because in the distant back of his conscious he can hear his name being called to go up on stage. It's all or nothing. 

“So recently, ive been starting to write my own material.” fukunaga hears a couple whoops ring out and smiles, walking over to the other side of the stage, dragging the cord of the microphone with him. “Yeah, im gonna kick my writers to the curb ‘cause they suck!” he notices, as his eyes scan the audience, that people are beginning to turn around and sit back down in their seats. 

“I uh, wanna thank you guys for deciding to stick around this time. It's ironic, because im not a religious person. I don't believe in a heaven above or a hell below, nor angels, god or anything else in between. But im convinced that,” he pauses to take a drink from the glass of water atop his stool. “I’ve got a guardian angel watching over me, and he’s here in this audience right now.” he watches the audience carefully. Everyone begins to look around in confusion, trying to figure out who fukunaga is talking about. fukunaga locks eyes with the angel himself, and he smiles softly then winks at fukunaga. 

“This guy, he’s a dedicated motherfucker. Whoever he’s dating must be lucky because he’s very committed. Hasn't missed a single one of my shows in the past two months. Do you know how committed you have to be to hear the same damn set every tuesday Thursday and Saturday for two months straight? This place might as well be a wedding chapel because this guy is com-fucking-mitted. Ladies and gentleman, give a warm round of applause to my guardian angel!” a spotlight shines on the man, but fukunaga isn't prepared to see him in the light. During shows, the lights are always directed at him, making the audience visible but not enough to make out features of any one persons face. Seeing him like this, bathed in a warm yellow glow, takes the breath right out of fukunaga. Dyed blonde hair, piercing cat like yellow eyes, and a smile so wide fukunaga could've died happy right then and there.

After his set, one of the bar’s employees knocks on the door of the dressing room, and fukunaga opens the door to see his guardian angel with a bouquet of sunflowers in one hand. fukunaga hadn't even noticed the flowers earlier but a grin blooms on his face and his heart flutters in his chest at the sight of this mysterious stranger standing in front of him, up close, face to face, for the first time since fukunaga first noticed him. 

“kenma kozume.” he says, answering the question fukunaga had yet to ask. “You should write your own material more often.” he says with a grin, holding the bouquet out to fukunaga, who takes it gratefully. 

“fukunaga shouhei. But im sure you already knew that. So, two months huh? Why do you do it?” 

fukunaga thought he’d be ready for the answer. He wasn't. 

“Simple. You.” 

fukunaga’s mind was reeling. How could it be that this handsome man came to every one of fukunaga’s shows just to see him? “Well, um, i’m sure you’ve got some lucky gal or guy waiting for you at home, so I won't hold you up any longer, kenma.” fukunaga said, trying the name out on his tongue. He liked the way it rolled off smoothly. kenma laughs softly, a beautiful melodic sound that sends a shiver down fukunaga’s spine. 

“That's kind of you to spare me such a compliment fukunaga, but i do not have anyone waiting for me, so im all yours. Allow me to buy you a drink?” 

God how fukunaga wishes kenma could be his forever. 

“Wait wait, you don't drink?” fukunaga mocks a horrified look and claps his hand over his mouth. kenma shakes his head slowly. “C'mon man, how do you survive without alcohol every now and then?” 

“How do you survive with alcohol?” kenma mutters. fukunaga takes a swig of his beer and sets the bottle back down on the counter with a loud clunk. The remaining contents slosh around angrily and fukunaga watches it with fixed eyes for about half a second before turning back to kenma. 

“So what do you for work, kenma?” fukunaga giggles, quite drunkenly; he's on his fifth beer and doesn't feel bad at all now for racking up a tab on kenma who offered to pay. 

“Im uh, okay now don't laugh, but im a gamer.” 

“Oh thank god i thought you were gonna say you were a stripper.” fukunaga sighs.

“Why--” 

“ ‘cause you’re fucking gorgeous dude.” fukunaga slurs, licking his lips slightly as he glances down at kenma’s lips. kenma’s cheeks lit up a bright red. 

“I think we should get you home before you have too much to drink. Cmon, ill give you a ride.” kenma pats fukunaga on the back as he stands up and heads for the door. fukunaga grumbles, rising to his feet slowly, and follows kenma to his car like a lost puppy. 

“What ‘bout my car?” he whines, while kenma buckles him into the passenger seat of his car. 

“We’ll get it in the morning okay? I'll drop by your place to pick you up and take you to your car.” 

“How do I know you’re not just saying this so you can kill me?” 

kenma pauses, hands on the steering wheel. “I'm your guardian angel, fukunaga, why would I do that?” 

fukunaga wakes up the next morning with a raging headache, but not one any worse than he’s had before. He barely remembers much about the night before after his third or so beer, but he remembers kenma. He rises from his bed slowly, rubbing at his temples. He looks down-- when did he change into his pajamas? A clatter followed by a soft curse comes from the kitchen and fukunaga panics internally. Did he forget to lock his apartment door last night? How'd he even get into his apartment? There were a lot of things he didn't remember it seemed. The smell of bacon and pancakes wafted through the air. When did fukunaga get food in his apartment? He hadn't even been out grocery shopping yet this month with the money yamamoto gave him for food. Not until he grabs his old baseball bat from his closet does he creep out of his room and down the hall towards the kitchen. He drops the bat, making a loud clattering noise as it hits the floor, when he sees kenma with his back to fukunaga, flipping a pancake on the stove. kenma turns around at the sound and smiles softly. 

“Good morning, I took the liberty of going out and getting some food for you while you were asleep so i could make breakfast. I hope you don't mind.” 

“Dear god, what did I do to deserve this? fukunaga mutters to himself. He misses the way that kenma cringes at the mention of god. Which, fukunaga doesn't believe in in the first place. 

“What do you remember?” kenma asks, searching through the cupboards for the one with plates. fukunaga points to the one on the far left. 

“Um, I don't really remember much after my third beer.” he admits sheepishly. kenma turns, raising his eyebrows at fukunaga. 

“So you don't…. Remember how you begged and pleaded me to stay with you last night? I mean, you held onto me for dear life. Like you thought i’d just up and leave in the middle of the night.” 

“Oh my god did I do that? I'm so sorry. I can get a little bit clingy when im drunk.” fukunaga buries his face in his hands, and kenma places a plate full of food in front of him and then turns to pour him a glass of orange juice. 

“Its fine, really.” kenma insists, sitting on the other side of the table while fukunaga scarfs down his food. “I hope you don't mind that I changed you out of your clothes, um, you sort of threw up all over your shirt. You don't seem to have a washer or dryer though so I didn't get to wash them for you.” 

“God, you’re just the most considerate mother fucker ever aren't you?” fukunaga asks between mouthfuls of food. He burps and sets his fork down with a quiet clang. His eyes meet kenma’s across the table and a grin crosses his face for a split second. “Yknow, i haven't had a real breakfast meal like this in so long. yamamoto, my best friend, well he’s always busy and my other friends, they live farther away and i practically never have any money after i pay rent. Sorry, you probably don't want to hear about my shit life.” he grabs his plate from the table and pauses. “Aren't you gonna eat?” 

“Oh, me? Probably not. I'm not much of a breakfast guy.” 

fukunaga shrugs and gets up to put his plate in the sink. He sighs, wiping his hands on the back of his plaid pajama pants that, admittedly, he doesn't wear anymore. Even in the coldest of winters, he sleeps in a pair of stupid patterened boxers that were 5 for $7 at a shitty convienience store and a neutral colored cotton tshirt that he also got for cheap at the same place. yamamoto had offered once to buy him a package of the most expensive boxers he’d ever seen- two pairs for $500? He couldn't even imagine spending that much on anything. fukunaga has lived paycheck to paycheck for as long as he could remember so spending money on unnecessary things wasn't really an option for him. 

“Hey, listen. Thanks for offering to pay for those drinks last night. This job doesn't really pay much and i, oh well.” fukunaga goes quiet, not wanting to seem like he wants more of kenma’s money. Though he has a feeling that if he asked, kenma would give him the world. 

“Anytime fukunaga. I hate to have to dash like this, but i have work soon and i’ve got to go change out of these clothes. Can't go into work looking like a piece of trash, now can i?” kenma laughs, grabbing his coat and slipping on his shoes as he heads for the door. But here's the thing. fukunaga didn't think kenma looked like trash at all. kenma could be disheveled and covered and dirt and blood with ripped clothing and fukunaga would still think him to be the most ethereal man he’d ever met. He had this glow about him that fukunaga almost couldn't describe. It was this warm light, a soft yellow amber hue that followed kenma wherever he went. He almost missed it when kenma left his apartment, looking back once more to flash him a smile that made fukunaga dizzy in the knees. 

The second kenma closed the door, he breathed out a sigh of relief. It was one thing for him to show up at fukunaga shouhei’s comedy shows, but it was another thing to speak to him, let alone drive him home, change his clothes and then sleep in the same bed with him. It was the riskiest thing he’d done in his time as a guardian angel. He knew that after what he was about to do, he could kiss becoming a human goodbye. He'd been planning it for a long time now. After watching over fukunaga shouhei for the past 27 years, kenma had fallen in love with his mannerisms, his personality, the way he interacted with other people and his determination to make it in this big world. There was of course, limitations of what kenma could do on earth. For the most part he was a normal human being. But he couldn't eat, nor could he drink. He didn't have the ability to bleed but a golden syrupy ichor and he always gave off a heavenly glow, one that shone in the dark like a dim night light. And if he wasn't careful, if he did too many good things for people, his halo would start to shine until it became too bright for the human eye to look at without going blind. It was a huge risk for kenma to stay this long on earth, and an even bigger one for him to allow himself to fall in love with a mere human. 

Which was why he was planning on asking a favor from god himself. Hed wanted for so long to be human, to be stripped of his heavenly status and duties so he could live a mortal life; one with an expiration date tied to his body, one where he could bleed red and cry real, human tears. He wanted it more than anything. He wanted to live a life with fukunaga shouhei, and love him unconditionally till the day they both died. He wanted to be laid to rest six feet deep, surrounded by people that he grew to know and love over the course of his life. He wanted a beating heart. He had so many wants, but none of them would ever be fulfilled because kenma was gullible. A pushover. Sensitive. Not very good at his job. He hated to see fukunaga suffering like this. It's wrong, and against the very laws of the universe for him to be doing things like this, but he’s already here at the apartment of fukunaga’s landlord-- a nice old lady named margaret who owned five cats and a goldfish --and there was no turning back now. With shaking hands, he knocks on the door, envelope of money in hand, ready to do the riskiest thing he’s ever done. 

“What do you mean i'm all caught up on rent Margie?” 

“I mean you’re all caught up. No payments to make dear.” 

“But- but i swear i hadn't been by to pay for this month yet.” fukunaga protests, despite knowing he shouldn't before margaret comes to her senses and charges him for the rent he knows he has to pay. “Oh, I get it. You’re just joshing me huh? You sly old fox.” he chuckles. “Well listen, as much as i appreciate you waiving this months pay for me, i really can't accept that.” 

“This month? fukunaga dear, a nice young man came by a few days ago and paid for your next five months of rent. He looked like an absolute angel, that man. Blond hair, bright eyed, looked like he still enjoyed living life.” Margaret sighs. fukunaga was stunned. 

“Oh uh- um thanks margie. Sorry to bother you. Have a good day.”

“You too dearie!” she calls as fukunaga stumbles back towards the elevator. He suddenly wished he didn't let kenma walk away without getting his number first. Yesterday was the first show that kenma had missed and fukunaga tripped over his words the entire 45 minutes he was up on stage. He rides the elevator back up to his apartment while wondering how the hell he was going to pay kenma back for this. Although this takes a huge burden off his back, fukunaga still feels guilty for letting kenma pay for five months of his rent. When he gets into his apartment, he sits down at his desk at picks up his pencil to write, but nothing good comes to mind. All he can think about is kenma. The thoughts are so overwhelming that he barely even registers his phone ringing in his pocket. He barely manages to answer it before it goes to voicemail. Its a number he doesnt recognize. 

“Hello?” 

“fukunaga, oh thank god, i was afraid i had the wrong number.” kenma's smooth voice announces. 

“Oh, hey kenma. We should probably talk.” 

“Meet me at the black spot in 10?” 

“I'm on my way right now.” fukunaga hangs up promptly, not giving kenma a chance to answer back and grabs his coat and keys on the way out the door. 

kenma waves him over from a table in the back, not that fukunaga would've needed help finding him, what with his glowing aura and all. Maybe he should ask about that too. He slides into the booth seat across from kenma, who has his hands wrapped around a mug full of coffee. fukunaga figures he hasn't been here long or that he’s on his second or third cup. fukunaga orders a root beer- with full intentions of paying this time -and turns his attention back to kenma. 

“So kenma,” he chuckles nervously, leg bouncing erratically under the table. “You bought me groceries and paid for 5 months of my rent? Also what’s with the glow, man? You glow like you’re some kinda fucking angel or some shit. Literally, you’re fucking--” fukunaga shakes his head and purses his lips. He's not about to tell kenma he thinks he’s gorgeous while sober, no sir. fukunaga would rather be caught dead than admit to kenma out loud while sober that he likes him. 

“I'm sorry if that bothers you. I know we’ve really only known each other for a little while but it feels like ive known you forever. I just don't want to see you struggle like that.” kenma answers, avoiding fukunaga’s question about his unearthly glow. 

“Okay but--” 

“I don't know what you mean by glowing. I don't see it.” he shrugs it off and fukunaga rolls his eyes, taking a sip of his root beer. 

“Okay then.” he mutters. “If you don't want to tell me then i guess that’s your choice. Listen, I better go. I’ve got material to write. I'll see you at my show right? Tomorrow night?” 

“Yeah, of course fukunaga.” kenma smiles sadly, eyes glazed over, tears threatening to spill from his eyes as fukunaga walks away without so much as a glance back at the angel. fukunaga curses himself out softly as soon as he exits the bar. 

“Write material? You stupid fuck, what a lousy excuse. Why couldn't you have just told him that you were angry at him for dodging your questions?” he mutters, hands balled into fists. 

“Who are you talking to?” 

“Jesus fuck!” fukunaga jumps back. “yamamoto i swear i just about punched your face in.” 

“Sorry man. I just- I was on my way to the black spot, figured you’d be there and well- here you are.” yamamoto fiddles nervously with his tie and rocks back and forth on the heels of his probably expensive armani looking ass shoes. 

“Its fine but I didn't expect to see you for at least a few more weeks.”

“You don't sound very excited to see me.” yamamoto frowns. 

“No, no i am, but im also just pissed off. It’s nothing.” fukunaga opens the drivers side door of his car and yamamoto hops in the passenger seat. 

“No tell me please, i want to know.” yamamoto stares over at fukunaga with attentive eyes. 

“Ah it's just this dude who's been coming to my shows. He comes to every one, has been for the past two months. And we've been talking recently, a lot. And then a few days ago he bought me groceries and paid my rent for the next five months. And he just sat in the black spot, avoiding the questions ive been asking him.” fukunaga mutters, foot pressing down on the gas pedal more and more as he gets more frustrated. 

“Dude bro-- it sounds like he's nervous and maybe in love with you.” fukunaga misses the sad look in yamamoto’s doe eyes as he says this. 

“Yeah i guess. Whatever. He's weird anyways.” 

“Do you like him too?” fukunaga comes screeching to a stop at a red light and turns to gawk at yamamoto. 

“Wh- what? No- i-” fukunaga splutters. 

“You should get to know him more. Go for it. Im telling you, he likes you. A guy wouldn't show up to all your shows and pay your rent for you if they didn't like you. Not even the most kindest of dudes would do that just to be nice.”

“You’re sure about this. About me going for it?” 

“Yeah, im sure.” this time, fukunaga notices the sad look and the crack in his best friend’s voice, but he ignores it, just like how he ignores his feelings for kenma. 

Its two weeks until fukunaga sees kenma again. He's stopped coming to fukunaga’s shows again, and its affected fukunaga more than he likes to admit. Just when he thinks that kenma has given up on him entirely, he sees a familiar blond head walking down the street as he drives by. It's pouring rain and kenma’s walking without a jacket and no umbrella, so fukunaga does what any other good person would do. 

“Hey stranger, do you want a lift?” he calls outside his passenger side window. kenma perks up at the sound of fukunagas voice, and even in the ugly orange glow of the streetlight fukunaga can see the warm amber hue that encompasses kenma’s form. He climbs into fukunaga's car, dripping wet with water, and flashes a grateful smile at fukunaga. fukunaga drives off, turning the volume knob on his stereo up, and starts singing along with the soft song that comes out of the speakers. 

“Congratulations, you've been pretending to be human, so well, might even fool the neighbors.” he hums softly, as the words that come next fail him. He doesn't know the song entirely that well. But it draws kenma’s attention, like he’d planned. “I’ve been doing some thinking.” he says, voice raised over the song playing in the background. “And I think I know why you’ve been avoiding my questions.” he glances over at kenma, to gauge his reaction. The angel’s jaw is slack, as he stares at fukunaga in disbelief. He swallows thickly. 

“Fine, you’ve caught me.” kenma puts his hands up in mock surrender as fukunaga pulls into the lot of his apartment building. 

“You like me.” fukunaga blurts out and kenma’s expression falters, flickering from guilty to genuine surprise. fukunaga kills the engine and leans over the console that separates his seat from kenma’s. “Tell me i’m wrong.” 

kenma shakes his head and fukunaga places his hand on kenma’s cheek, bringing him closer and closer until he can almost count every one of kenma’s eyelashes. kenma’s eyes flutter shut and fukunaga leans forwards, closing the gap between himself and kenma. kenma’s lips are soft and feel like heaven and taste even better. fukunaga never dreamed that he’d be here, right now, kissing kenma like this. The rain patters down on the roof of fukunaga's car and a quiet melodic song plays softly in the background. When they break apart, fukunaga is almost afraid to open his eyes, in case this is a dream but when he does, kenma is staring back at him with love in his eyes. 

“Let’s get inside before the rain gets any worse. Nah, fuck it. Who am I kidding? I just want to get inside so we can fuck.” kenma laughs, and fukunaga drags him out of the car and into his apartment. 

fukunaga wakes up in the morning and kenma is still next to him, sleeping soundly. The blankets that once fully covered him have slipped down to reveal his bare expanse of back and fukunaga smiles softly. kenma sighs and turns over on his side. fukunaga grins like a fool and leans down and places a gentle kiss on kenma’s cheeks. The angel’s eyes flutter open and he sits up and sneezes. His eyes go wide and he scrambles back onto the palms of his hands. A confused look crosses over fukunaga’s face. 

“What’s wrong gorgeous?” 

“Im sick!” kenma exclaims. fukunaga laughs worriedly. 

“Yeah, and?” 

“I don't get sick.” kenma says firmly, sniffling. “Ugh god my throat hurts.” he whines.

“That's what happens when you walk in the rain with no coat.” fukunaga ruffles kenma’s curls affectionately. “I'm gonna go make some coffee okay? I'll get you some medicine too while I'm at it.” fukunaga shuffles out into the kitchen and yawns as he picks up his coffee pot and fills it with water. He hums some song that he doesn't remember the name of while he waits for his coffee to brew. kenma comes barrelling into the kitchen moments later, fully dressed and hair a mess. He kisses fukunaga on the cheek. 

“Im really sorry but i’ve got to go. I swear i’ll explain once I figure out what's going on.” he sneezes again and yelps, and then he’s out the door, in the biggest hurry fukunaga has ever seen him in. 

“What the fuck?” fukunaga murmurs. He pours his coffee into his cup seconds later and sips it slowly, cursing when it burns his tongue. “I must be dreaming.” 

He spends the rest of the day writing new material, some witty shit about parents and old childhood stories. He adds in a few jokes about this dog he’d seen the other day; a cute fluffy little pomeranian that seemed to like fukunaga more than it’s own owner, and how he was thinking about snatching it from the rich snooty lady who probably carried it in her purse half its life anyways. He starts on a joke about how terrible he is at getting guy’s numbers (he still doesn't have kenma’s) when he remembers that kenma called him once a few weeks ago. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and scrolls through the call logs until he finds kenmas number. He has a lot of spam numbers in his call log, most that he ignored, some that he didn't (and was consequently greeted with “Hi Mr shouhei, we’re calling to let you know you’ve won a free cruise!” to which fukunaga replied “fuck you.” and hung up) but he felt sure about this number. His finger hovers over the dial button, unsure if kenma would want to talk to him, or even answer. He curses softly to himself and presses the dial button before he can freak out and decide to just not call at all. The phone rings once, twice, and then someone picks up on the other side of the line. But its not kenma. 

“Hello?” the voice is rushed and worried sounding, a high pitched female voice that fukunaga doesn't recognize. 

“Yeah whos this?” 

“There's been an accident. I've called 911 and they’re on their way but this man he- hes passed out, he won't respond. I don't even know if he’s breathing.” 

“Oh my god where are you?” 

“Across the street from the black spot.” fukunaga hangs up before she can say anything more. He flies down the stairs and continues running as fast as his legs can take him. He doesn't bother getting into his car, it’d take too much of his precious time to stick the key in the ignition with his shaky hands. His heart pumps in his chest, both from the adrenaline rush as he runs down the street, and from the fear of kenma dying before fukunaga has the chance to tell him he’s loved him this whole time. He crosses the street even though there are cars barrelling down the street towards him and continues running, thanking his mother silently for making him (and yamamoto taketora, after much convincing) take volleyball in high school, and eventually college. By the time he reaches the black spot there’s an ambulance, where a small woman sits on the sidewalk, head in her hands, shaking softly. fukunaga approaches one of the paramedics who seems unbusy for being at the site where someone got ran over. He takes a second to gather his breath before speaking. 

“Is he okay? The man who got hit?” 

“Im sorry but im not allowed to release that information to the public sir, so unless-”

“He’s my boyfriend, please, I just want to know if he’s alive.” fukunaga pleads. The paramedic sighs. 

“Yes. He seems to be suffering from internal bleeding and he’s conscious now.” 

“Can I ride with to the hospital? I don't have my car and i--” 

“Hop on in, we’ll give you a lift. You’ll have to wait in the waiting room when we get there until we can get him in stable condition. Unless he shows signs of recovery, we’ll most likely have to do surgery.” he climbs into the ambulance and fukunaga follows, sitting opposite him and another paramedic. kenma turns his head slowly, wincing as he does and looks up at fukunaga. 

“shouhei? You’ve gotta get me out of here I can't--” he coughs and cries out in pain, a hand flying to his rib cage. fukunaga takes kenma’s free hand in his and squeezes it tightly. 

“You’re hurt bad kenma. They might need to do surgery. Huh, you’ve lost your glow.” fukunaga remarks suddenly. kenma’s eyes go wide.

“What do you mean? No no--” he begins to panic. 

“What’s the matter with you? I think maybe-- hey!” fukunaga calls to the paramedic he talked to earlier. “I think he may have a concussion. Hes talking gibberish and seems sort of disoriented.”

“It's possible that he has a consussion. Can you tell me who you are?” the paramedic asks kenma. 

“Yeah, my names kenma kozume and i’m an--” kenma looks over at fukunaga, eyes wild. “I’m an angel.” he whispers, low enough for the paramedic to not hear. “That's why I can't go to the hospital. I don't bleed real blood fukunaga.” fukunaga looks at him in confusion and touches kenma’s temple softly, fingers gliding across his forehead. 

“Then what's this?” he asks, holding up his index and middle fingers up for kenma to see. fukunagas fingers glisten with fresh, red blood and kenma takes one look and passes out.

fukunaga sits at kenma’s bedside four excruciatingly painful hours later. He runs his fingers through kenma’s hair softly and affectionately while kenma sleeps soundly. He broke two ribs, fractured his skull, and suffered a nasty concussion, just as fukunaga had thought. He’d been asleep ever since fukunaga was allowed in and he was antsy for kenma to wake up before he burst from anticipation. A nurse strolls in a few minutes later to check kenma’s vitals and fiddle with the knobs connected to the IV in kenma’s arm. She looks over at him and smiles momentarily. 

“Rough day, huh?” 

“Yeah, i suppose you could call it that. Im just glad he’s okay.” 

“I bet. He should be up soon, just so you know. I turned the morphine drip down so when he wakes up he might be in a little pain, but thats normal. If it escalates dont hesitate to press the call button and i’ll be right in to turn it back up. My name’s Bee by the way, and i’m the nurse on call for the next six hours.” she gives fukunaga a wave as she exits the room and he feels instantly better knowing kenma was in the hands of someone so caring and helpful. He takes kenma’s right hand in his and sighs softly. kenma grips his hand gently and fukunaga looks up to see kenma wake up slowly. He winces in pain but a smile graces his face when he sees fukunaga looking like he’s never been more in love. 

“Hi shouhei.” he whispers. 

“kenma baby, i’m so glad you’re okay.” fukunaga breathes out. “I was so worried back in the ambulance, you were going off about being an angel? Do you remember that?” he’s known for some time now, but wants to see if kenma will confirm that he really is what fukunaga thought now that they’re alone. 

“Yes, and i think--” 

“You’re a human. I- i dont know how but you’re a breathing, bleeding, human being. And ive got something to say. Ive been holding this in for so long, mainly because i was afraid, but i love you, kenma. Ive loved you for a long time. We’ve only known each other for almost four months but i feel like i’ve known you forever. I love every thing about you, from your smile to your beautiful eyes and your dumb blond hair. I love your cute laugh and the way you brush your hair back out of your eyes when you’re nervous. I loved you even when i was mad at you and we didnt speak for two weeks. I love that glow that you exude, even if its not a literal glow anymore. You’ll always be my angel, even if you’re just a human now. Please say you’ll be mine forever? Theres no one else for me.” and with those words, kenma knew he was home.

**Author's Note:**

> this is dedicated to my real life angel <3


End file.
